No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

The Cougar Chronicles 2

by Courtney Cole

EPISODE TWO:

SARA

One

Devil, thy name is Sara

“I hate you,” my best friend mutters. I can hear her teeth gnash together all the way from California.

“Don’t grit your teeth,” I tell her casually. “You’re going to whittle them into fangs.” Covering the mouth of the phone, I look up at the drive-through cashier. “Make sure my dressing is on the side, please.”

The girl nods and I return my attention to Alli.

“You love me and you know it,” I remind her. “As your Maid of Honor, I’m planning you the most kickass bachelorette party that Vegas has ever seen. And I’m helping you with the wedding details. Don’t even try to argue. You know where that gets you.”

Alli sighs, a long, shuddering noise that makes me smile. She always gives in to me, and she knows it.

“When are you arriving?” she asks wearily. “I’ve got to meet with the caterers and the cake people… and I got your email. I’m absolutely not having the groom’s cake shaped like a penis. No arguments, no way.”

I let that one slide for now, and check my watch. It’s only twelve thirty. “I’ve just got to head home and finish packing, and your place is only an hour away. So…”

“So you’ll be here by nightfall?” Alli teases. Because she knows it’ll take that long to pack all of my shoes.

“No, smarty-wench, I’ll be there by four at the latest. I’m bringing you lots of fun stuff.”

I glance into my back-seat where boxes filled with lingerie and adult toys are stacked.

“You’ll love it,” I add.

Alli sighs again. “Is any of it legal?”

“Does it matter?” I shoot back. “Gotta go, I’ve got shit to pack.”

I toss my phone on my seat and push the button that lowers the top to my sassy red Mercedes convertible. It was my birthday gift to myself this year. After all, a girl only turns thirty-five for the first time once, right?

Next year, for my second thirty-fifth birthday, I’m thinking of getting a crotch rocket. Because my crotch deserves a rocket. And also, because I look fabulous in leather pants. I’m still thinking about what I’ll do for my third thirty-fifth birthday.

I zip through traffic, eating my salad while I drive, and by the time I pull into my cobblestone driveway, I’m ready to hit the ground running. I drop my salad container in the trash on the way past, and barge into my house, ready to pack and roll.

I’m unprepared for the naked man sitting on my sofa.

I take that back. He’s not completely naked. He’s wearing a bowtie.

“Chazz,” I sigh, as I walk past the handsome young man. “How many times have I told you… we’re done. I don’t need your services anymore.”

Hiring him had been fun last year, but honestly, I’m over it. I don’t need to hire a male escort anymore. I’m on to other wild things.

“Not you,” I interrupt firmly. “It was very nice of you to want to continue seeing me free of charge, but I’m changing my ways, Chazz. I’m only going to date relationship material from now on. No more young flings.”

“I’m twenty-four,” he points out, and his washboard abs flex with his words. I’m pretty sure he’s doing it on purpose. Any minute now I feel sure he’s going to start twitching his nipples.

“I’m thirty-five,” I tell him, and I can’t look at his abdomen. I can’t. I don’t want to lose my resolve. “I mean it, Chazz,” I tell him warningly as he inches toward me, his body long and hard.

Glancing down, I see his body isn’t all that’s long and hard.

“How can you be hard already?” I demand incredulously.

He grins, mischief in his eyes. “I’m twenty-four.”

He pins me against the breakfast nook, and the granite is cold against my back. Chazz, however, is hot against my front. His skin is warm and firm and smooth, and suddenly, my mouth waters.

“I like your hair,” he tells me smoothly, is voice like honey, his eyes like a wolf.

“Nope,” I correct her. “I’ll be there by eight. I’m driving Lolita. She likes to go fast, just like me.”

“You’re still ridiculous,” Alli sighs. “Don’t kill yourself on the way here. I need you.”

“You need what’s in my backseat, too.”

“I’m scared,” she all but whimpers. I grin.

“You should be.”

I cackle and hang up, turn the music loud, and let the Las Vegas landscape blur into the distance as I head for Alli’s California home. We’ll plan everything there, and then head back to Vegas for the bachelorette party, then back to her winery for the ceremony.

“I don’t know why she moved to California anyway,” I grumble to myself. But I do. She moved because she and her fiancée bought into a winery and who wouldn’t want to run a winery? I’d personally drink myself out of business, but that’s neither here nor there.

The night swallows up my car and before I know it, a scant four hours later, I’m pulling up to my best friend’s house.

Mansion.

House.

Mansion.

I can’t decide which it is as I walk to the door.

“Is this a house or a mansion?” I demand when Alli’s fiancée answers the door. Alex, who is dressed in pajama pants and no shirt, grins.

“Neither. I think it’s a chateau.”

“Nice abs,” I tell him as I breeze past, and he chuckles as he grabs my bag.

“Alli Cat?” he calls up the stairs. “Sara is here.”

My BFF squeals from upstairs and comes bounding down. With her long lean legs, she looks like a gazelle as she jumps into my arms.

“Hey, bitch,” I greet her, hugging the stuffing out of her. “That was a long ride.”

Alli wrinkles her nose. “You smell like Chazz and sex. You’ve got to shower. Then come down and we’ll drink wine under the stars.”

“Are we going to get naked in the hot-tub like old times?” I ask that for Alex’s benefit, and he laughs, his white teeth flashing in the light. He wasn’t there the night Alli and I passed out in her hot-tub naked, but he’s heard the stories.

“Go ahead,” he tells me. “You won’t catch me arguing.”

I snicker. “I know you’d only be looking at Alli, you sick monogamist.”

“You should try it some time” he advises. “You might like it.”

“Or I might be bored silly.”

He shrugs. “Either way. Come outside when you’re clean.”

“I’ll never be clean.” I waggle my eyebrows and spank his ass lightly as I pass. They both roll their eyes.

“It’s like you’re one person now,” I complain loudly as I head up the stairs. “God.”

But I love them both and they know it. If ever two people were meant to be together, it’s them. It’s sickening. I sort of throw up a little in my mouth at the mere thought of monogamy, but I handle it by the time I reach my room.

Their guest bathroom is quaint and beautiful, and I stand beneath the hot water for quite a while, letting the miles wash away. Traces of my red hair coloring, which I just had retouched yesterday, swirl the drain too. That’s ok. No one needs to know that my fire engine red hair isn’t real.

Haha. I like fooling myself.

It’s startlingly red. Everyone knows it’s not real. That’s fine.

It matches my lipstick and my car.

And my personality. And my favorite high heels.

The list could go on forever.

I’m just a red kind of girl.

When I’m finished washing, I throw on a pair of old ratty shorts and a t-shirt, and without doing my hair or makeup, I head downstairs to find Alex and Alli.

Because wine.

“Hey!” I call out, because no one seems to be anywhere. “Alli! Alex!”

No one answers.

I call again, and no one answers.

Well, screw that then.

I need wine.

I find my way into the kitchen, and as a real estate agent, the Realtor of the Year in the Greater Las Vegas area for three years running, I can’t help but admire it. Stone columns, exposed brick, glistening granite, massive counter space. I give a low whistle and head through the hallway behind it to the wine cellar.

It’s encased in stone and worthy of a winery’s wine cellar. Wine bottles line the walls from floor to ceiling. I browse them and choose two. Reds, of course.

It’s my color.

I’ve got a bottle in each hand when I’m rounding the corner into the kitchen, my hair dripping wet and my face as clean as the day I was born, when I run smack dab into the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen.

Three

Age is just a number, sometimes, an OLD number

The blue eyes blink just as I collide into the super hard chest attached to them.

“Oof,” I expel an unladylike sound as I smash into him. With deft hands, Blue-Eyes catches the wine bottles in my hands.

I didn’t even realize I’d dropped them.

Don’t judge. With eyes like that looking at me, I’m surprised I didn’t automatically drop my panties, too. Never fear- there’s still time.

“Hello,” he says, staring at me curiously. For a second, I think he’s staring because he doesn’t know me. Then I feel my wet hair drip onto my shoulders and I remember that I look like I’m homeless.

God.

“I…uh… I’m supposed to be here,” I blurt like an idiot.

Blue-Eyes raises a dark eye brow and what is he?? Greek?? Lord have mercy. My uterus flutters, then claws at the inside of my belly, trying to get to this guy.

Down, girl.

“Are you?” he asks casually, perfectly unflustered, as though he’s used to seeing ragged wet women all the time.

Gah, he’s gorgeous. Roman nose, dark eyes, perfect chiseled chin. What the hell is Alli doing with this guy in her house? He’s a hellava lot of competition for Alex. Holy shit.

“How old are you?” I ask without thinking. Blue-Eyes pauses.

“Most people ask for my name first,” he says easily. “It’s Sam, by the way.”

“No. I was screaming because of an alien creature named Sam. You didn’t tell me about him.”

She stares at me now, and there’s a knowing expression in her eyes, and she pauses.

“I didn’t tell you on purpose,” she finally admits. “Sam is off-limits, Sar. I respect him, and you’d chew him up and spit him out. He’s a good guy, not your play-thing.”

She’s stern and I’m speechless.

“What?” I stutter, and I attempt to shoot daggers with my eyes. “I can’t even.. I can’t believe you’d think that of me.”

Alli’s look is droll. “Let’s talk about your past conquests, shall we? There was Erik only a month ago. He was such a nice accountant, and had a Porsche, and treated you like a queen, and you broke up with him via text because he wouldn’t sky-dive with you. There was Duke right before that, and he was a Park Ranger, and…”